People aren’t born monsters.
I’d been with Dornan Ross for the better part of a decade. Slept in his bed, sewn up his wounds, tasted his blood, seen inside his soul.
But even I wasn’t prepared for what he did.
I should have known it would always come down to this, from the very moment I laid eyes on him in that motel.
I should have known his salvation was too good to be true.
Because it’s all gone now, the impossible love I had for him bleeding away in the darkness that came afterward.
Now there’s only hate.
Now I just want to escape.
Even if it means I have to kill him to be free.
About the Series
How much is a life worth?
Mariana Rodriguez is the eldest daughter of a Colombian drug lord. Growing up in Villanueva, Colombia, she has never wanted for anything. Private schools, a lavish lifestyle, and the safety of the Cartel that her father works for.
At nineteen, she’s got her entire life mapped out, and what a good life it’s going to be: graduate from college, move to America, and finally be free from the stifling grip of the Cartel.
Only, her father messes up. A shipment of cocaine – a very large, very valuable shipment – is seized by the authorities whilst under his care and he becomes liable for the debt. Half a million dollars’ worth of cocaine.
Half a million dollars he does not have.
But he has a daughter, a very smart one, a daughter who would give up her very existence and offer herself as payment for her father’s sins, to ensure her family survives.
But falling in love with the man who owns her isn’t part of the plan…
John paid the waitress and she took my waffles to box up. I’d barely touched them, too busy talking, but I might want them after a couple of hours’ sleep.
‘You got a bathroom?’ John asked her. The woman looked at him like he was an idiot. She didn’t even respond with words, just pointed to a door in the back.
‘I’m gonna go get this cleaned up,’ he said.
I held up my purse. ‘I’ll come with you. I brought extra gauze. Since you insist on not getting stitches.’
Luckily there was a staff bathroom and changeroom that nobody seemed to be using. John held the door open for me and then locked it, testing it to make sure it couldn’t open. We were good. He leaned down while I took off the old gauze and tried my best to clean the wound again. It was deep, and looked nasty.
‘Does it hurt?’ I asked him. He shrugged. ‘I’ve had things hurt a lot more.’ ‘Like what?’ He licked his lips, put his hands on my waist. ‘Like my cock right now.’ Lust dragged through my belly like wildfire and I swear, I felt my pupils dilate. ‘Oh, yeah? Your cock needs medical attention, too?’
He smirked, pulling me close with a forceful jerk. I could feel his hardness against my belly, and I wanted it all to myself. An empty ache throbbed between my thighs, demanding to be filled.
He brought a finger to my chin, tilting my face up to his. One kiss. That was all it took for my lamb to become a lion.
‘Take your fucking panties off before I rip them off.’ His eyes burned with desire and I felt my heart skip a beat.
Shit. I was about ready to come just from his words.
I hitched my skirt up, making it a show for him as I hooked my thumbs into the edges of my panties and slid them down my thighs. I was wearing white panties, and there was a clear wet patch on the inside. John saw it as I stepped out of the panties and he made a growling noise in the back of his throat, snatching them from me.
He fell to his knees before me, prising my thighs apart. I had to shuffle my feet wider apart to accommodate him. His tongue touched me, ever so gently, and it took everything inside me not to scream.
‘John,’ I begged. I wasn’t even sure what I was begging for. I just knew that I needed him, desperately. He slid a finger inside me and I tightened around it, involuntary, pulsing with need. A finger wasn’t going to be enough. I needed him. Inside me. Now. I squeezed his head, my hands fisted in his hair. Every time his tongue touched me, it was like a fucking inferno lit up inside me. Every time he pulled away, I pressed my hips forward, seeking that wet caress that was threatening to bring me undone in a Denny’s bathroom stall. Of all places. Guess I’d been wrong. Seemed we really were going to fuck in a restaurant bathroom.
When he pulled his face away, I just about crumpled over on myself. I caught a look at myself in the mirror – clumped mascara from the nap I’d taken on the kitchen counter earlier; my cheeks flushed.
‘Somebody might catch us,’ John said, that teasing glint in his eye.
I held onto his arms, my legs still shaking from the way he’d cruelly taunted me until I was almost coming. ‘Let’s shoot everyone on that bridge when we come to it,’ I said, pulling my tank top down to expose a nipple. I pulled his hair, and he went with it, bringing his mouth to my pebbled nipple and sucking hard enough that pleasure hummed dangerously close to pain.
He pulled his mouth away and picked me up effortlessly, his hands cupping my ass cheeks. ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he murmured. I did, breathless with anticipation as he walked me backward to the sink. He dropped me onto the edge, and luckily the thing was built solid enough, because he hitched my skirt up and slammed into me so hard, my head went back into the mirror and left a little crack in the glass. Not enough to draw blood. Not even enough to see stars. But enough that I hoped I’d be driving past this Denny’s with Dornan one time, and have to stop off, and come in here to relive this moment, one crack in the mirror and John’s hand over my mouth as he made me come so hard, I drew blood along his arm with my fingernails. Especially when he pulled back and with every insistent thrust inside me, he told me he loved me. I love you. Fuck. I love you. Fuck! At one point, I thought his love was going to send me through the wall and into the next room. With my free hand I gripped the edge of the basin, as hot, wet kisses trailed up my neck, one thumb on my clit, making me come so hard I bit down on his shoulder without thinking, and John shuddered forcefully as he came inside me.
I felt bruised inside. I’d be sore for days after that. Some very sick part of me wondered if I’d still feel like this, raw and tender, the next time Dornan put his hands or his mouth or his cock near me.
I hoped so.
I know, it’s not right. I never said I was a good person, did I? Part of me was already looking forward to the bruised places Dornan would touch inside me, the map John had made when he’d fucked me, and that Dornan would never know I was feeling John’s touch when he was inside me.